


Racing Hearts

by saerayaa



Category: GOT7
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saerayaa/pseuds/saerayaa
Summary: Sivan is an ex race car driver picking up her career where she left it ten ears ago, but there's a new star un Reno; a young dickhead called Mark Tuan. The first time she met him, he almost killed her.





	1. Chapter 1

Reno, Nevada’s third biggest city. Yet it’s still so small to me. It’s a sunny as Telavi, but far safer, and it feels more like home to me. Which is strange because I don’t recognize any of the landscape I’m passing through. I realize just how long I’ve been away. Ten years and I feel like being in another city; Ite4s home but it’s not. Everything has changed, nothing to remind me of what I left here. That’s perfect. It’s another new start; it’ll help me, for sure.

The racing track has changed too. Became all fancy and stuff. I’m not even sure uncle Kameron still works here, haven’t talked to him in years. I’ve been away and cut all ties with my old life for a while. Not that I became bitter or anything, uncle Kam knows I love him. I just needed a pause, a really long one, and they all gave it to me.

The race track looks like the ones you’d find in bigger cities, in France or England. It makes me forget it’s in a 250 000 citizen city. It looks like it was custom-made for a racecar superstar. Wow.

“Look at her!” Uncle beams at me, his eyes getting smaller, his face wrinkly and old and beautiful. He’s dressed in his usual black, dirty overalls and a white T-shirt. He lost weight. A lot of it. I preferred him chubby, he was like a big teddy bear. He looks so much older now; I can’t believe I missed out so much.

I smile back at him, spreading my arms wide open for him. He takes me in his arms as the old crew closes in. He’s warp and he smells like cars. I missed him. We hug for a long moment before he lets me go.

“What a tan. Vacations do you good, Siv.” He says proudly, his big hands cupping my face effortlessly. Vacations, he says. Vacations.

“Thank you, Kam.” I reply, taking his hand and kissing the back of it. His eyes are all smiley; he looks happy; my heart is all warm.

“How are you doing, my darling?” He asks softly. The others are listening as well.

“Good.” I reply, honestly. He smiles but says nothing. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He says before kissing my cheek. When he retreats, Xavier takes a step forward and squeezes me in his big arms. He’s got older too, but gained weight. He, who I used to call slender man, is in fact a teddy bear.

“Xav.” I say happily, returning his hug. He pulls back and pats my head with both hands in an adoring manner, but his face isn’t smiling.

“If you’re not sure, you can still cancel everything. I’ll talk to Isaac, he’ll take me back, we can wait another season.” He says, and he’s almost pleading. Does he think I’ve left my home of ten years, traveled all these miles just to decide not to do anything?

“Xav, you left your foal for me. I’m not letting you down now.” I declare, putting a hand on his shoulder. He gives me a stern look.

“You were always my foal, Sivan. But don’t do this for me, do it for you.” He murmurs.

“I’ll be fine, Xav.” I moan, not needing to hear the rant he’s been serving me for a week ever since I called to say I was coming back. Closing the subject, I go and hug the other crew members, Elijah, Ronny and Sam. They’ve all aged nicely.

“I’ll go change myself.” I say when we’re done with the hugging and kissing. They all wave at me as I turn on my heels towards the lockers, refraining my trembling legs from running. In my locker, I find a brand new suit. The leather smells like fresh start. It’s white and red, and fits like a glove. I had forgotten just how empowering a racing suit was. Everything has become unfamiliar. I pick up my helmet. It’s really light, surprisingly. I don’t want something that light protecting my brain. Unsure, I bang it on the floor, and it doesn’t break.

Things sure have changed in ten years.

I tie my hair in a ponytail, tuck mu super light yet super solid helmet under my arm and walk out towards the track. Outside, I’m welcomed by the crew under a rain of confetti, clapping and happy whistles. A crowd on fire.

“You guys are the worst.” I laugh, but secretly love it. Uncle Kam snaps a picture, holding up his IPhone 7 I’m sure he doesn’t know how to use.

“You look good, Siv.” He tells me while blinding me with flash. In bright daylight. Xav comes up to me, smiling, and zips me up completely.

“How does it feel?” He asks, putting his hands on his hips. I stretch the fabric a little.

“Warm.” I shrug. My heart is eating fast. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Where’s my car?” I ask impatiently.

“Eli!” Kameron shouts, and I hear the loud roar of an angry engine. I look to the left and see, slowly pulling up at my level, A dark blue Kyosho TS020. It was repainted, I can see that, and there are a few bumps here and there, but it makes the same noise as a purring Lion.

“It’s…” I say, almost choking on my own words, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“It took us a while but we managed to put it back together.” Kam says proudly while Elijah gets out of the car.

“And we kept it, waiting for you to come back.” He beams at me. My heart warms and cools at the same time. I’m so happy they rebuilt it, but at the same time I hate it. Rings back too much memories I’ve tried to forget.

“Of course, we changed everything that wasn’t within the standards. It’s a brand new car in the body of the old one.” Elijah ads, leaning against the old jewel. Wow.

“I don’t want it.” I snap, because there is no way this could take me anywhere. “I don’t want to drive this junk heap. Give me your best car.”

“This is our-“

“No, this is bullshit!” I raise my voice. Everything goes silent around me. Everyone has these wide, surprised eyes, expect Kameron; His eyes are disappointed. It’s like he wasn’t even hoping at the first place.

“I’m here to move on, for fuck’s sake!” I remind them. When my eyes start to feel cold, I turn away from them, realizing there are tears in my eyes. There is no fucking way I’m crying on my first day. If I can’t make it today, then I won’t be able to make it at all, and they are trying to ruin it.

“Sivan-“

“I’m fine.” I snap, letting my tears dry. “Don’t try to make me a wimp, Kameron.” I mutter, turning back around. Uncle looks sad.

“I’m not a crybaby.” I tell everyone.

“No, but you’re human.” Kameron says quietly. I’m not human, I’m a driver.

He sighs and gets in the car, bringing it back to the garage, and comes back a few moments later, driving a crystal clear diamond.

“Bugatti Veyron.” I say to myself, watching the soft beast slowly making its way to me. This is definitely something. I put my helmet on.

The interior is as comfortable as a freaking cloud. Everything is soft and squishy. Wow.

I start the engine and go for a parade lap, zig zagging to heat the tires and test their adhesion. The acceleration is so smoot, I can’t explain it.

“Nice.” I say to myself.

“Don’t try to get crazy just yet.” Xav’s voice rings inside the car. They must have taken place in the booth on the top floor. “Get used to her.”

“Got it.” I reply.

I can’t help but tell myself that if everything feels so new to me, it’s because I’ve left tracks years ago, because my passion stole my happiness. Because, I’m scared to drive again.

“How is it going, Sivan?” This time, it’s Elijah speaking. “Sivan?”

“She’s easy.” I reply, continuing to zig zag, and the ride gets smoother and smoother. I pick up a little bit of speed. I don’t know if I love speed anymore. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.

I hear a noise. The sharp noise of a car coming from afar, another beast roaring behind me.

“Woah, woah, woah, Sivan!” Someone shouts in the mic. I swing the while to the right to close in on the fence while the other car barely misses me. When I realize I’m going to collide with the fence, I swing to the left and push on the brakes, and my car drifts and spins for a moment before coming to a stop.

I open my eyes, breathless and shocked, but not hurt. I’m alive. And I can’t believe this happened on my first day back on the tracks. Fuck! My heart is racing. Who’s the idiot who wen 200 mph while I was at 40? I unbuckle my seat and open the door, my legs feeling wooly. I push myself out of the car and take my helmet off to try and find the fucker who almost killed me.

“Who the fuck did this?!” I yell, throwing my helmet to the floor. I look around and find the car in question parked on the side of the road. There is a man in a dark blue racing suit who is taking his helmet off.

“Hey!” I call. The guy is some young Asian guy with dark brown hair and an arrogant face.

“You almost killed me, you bag of shit!” I shout at him. He hands his helmet over to some tall brunette without looking at her.

“The track is mine during this schedule. You’re not supposed to be here.” His tone is condescending, arrogant, disregarding and irritating. His eyes travel up and down my figure as I stomp towards him.

“Whoever you are.” He mutters when I’m in front of him. I actually can’t believe my fucking ears.

“Yours?” I repeat, snorting. The guy ignores me. He ignores me. He nods towards the submissive brunette how show him an IPad without a words. I snatch in from her hands, forcing them both to actually notice me.

“You try that one more time, and I swear to god, I’ll run you over any chance I get.” I threaten him, seriously. I could kill him if he ever pulled another stunt like that. He blinks at me two times and turns to his brunette.

“Who the fuck is she?” He asks her. The tablet collides with his jaw before I proceed what has happened.

“Sivan!” I hear people calling from behind me. I’ve just punched him with an I pad. The device comes crashing onto the floor, breaking in three, and he stumbles to the side. I watch him, huffing and puffing, my heart still racing furiously from the adrenaline rush.

“My god!” The brunette cries with a-high-pitched voice. The guy straightens up, holding the side of his mouth where he now has a bleeding cut. He takes a look at his bloody fingers and glares up at me. Now the bastard knows me. With a motion of his bloody hand, he summons his slave and she hands him a towel while everyone closes in around us.

“This is the last fucking time you set a foot in here, you hear me?” He declares, surprisingly calmly, while taking a few face towards me so were nose to nose. Well, more like nose to chin. He’s trying to intimidate me; be I am on conquered land. This is my place, my moment, and I’m not fucking with him.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re over.” He says to me. His confidence is overwhelmingly funny. He really thinks he’s somebody.

“Yeah, you’ll get my own uncle to ban me from this place.” I mock, crossing my arms over my chest. The guy smirks and wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Kameron can’t ban you from this place.” He concurs. “It’s not his anymore.” He frowns, tilting his head to the side. My face falls as I turn around to look at my uncle for confirmation. At that moment, he lowers his head and looks at the ground, fidgeting with his rug. I turn back to Mr. asshole.

“You just punched the director.” He declares. I should have known his confidence came from somewhere. To a certain degree, he is somebody. And he stole my uncle’s race car school! He took my home from me. My blood starts to boil.

My fist collides with his cheek in a quick, mindful and I hope hard punch. Everyone gasps around me as the guy stumbles back. Hands grab my shoulders and pull me back as I try to come back at him and kick him in the balls.

“Bitch!” He curses, as two gorillas in a white T-shirt and black pants appear.

“Get her out of here!” He orders. The guy has security? What a freaking snob! If he thinks anyone is going to keep me away from my track, gorillas or not, he’s holding his breath and shoving his foot in his own ass.

-

“Who is he?” I grumble as Kameron places a bag of ice on my knuckles. We sit on the sidewalk in front of the school like two hobos. I’m still in my racing suit. He really did kick me out.

“Mark Tuan. US Champion twice in a row. He’s aiming for worlds this season.” Elijah says, emerging from inside with my bag swung over his shoulder.

“Don’t know him.” I mutter.

“You don’t know anything past 2007.” Uncle Kam snaps. Humph.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I declare, rising and grabbing my bag from Eli’s hand, the bag of eyes falling down to the ground. I swing it over my shoulders and walk back to my car. Mark Tuna whatever… fucking douchebag.

“Where?!” Kameron calls after me. “You’re banned from here.”

I turn around to face hm. Never in my life have I been so sure of the words that come of my mouth.

“This place is more mine than his. He’s never taking that away from me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Disguise. It doesn’t have to be elaborated, or complete. People car so much about you, that you only have to change a detail for them to think you’re a totally different person. Thanks to that detail, I make my way inside the school without anyone stopping me. I get into my suit, grab my helmet and walk outside towards the circuit. No one noticed. No one never notice, except when they know you too well.

Right before I can put my helmet on to completely hide my face, my eyes meet with one of the gorillas’ next to me. Shit. I try to take a step away from him. He freezes for a second and frowns, before his face falls in realization. Shitty crap fuck.

“Hey!” He calls after me.

“Damn it!” I curse, bolting away in the direction of the garage, hoping I can get into my car before he can catch me. But he does, getting a hold of my arm before I can even run a foot. Despite all my resistance, my writhing and struggling, the gorilla drags me away from the track into the building, and then up to where Kam’s office used to be.

When he pushes me inside the office, I almost forget about my rage. The place had been redecorated. The floor, the walls, everything smells like money. The two broken windows have been replaced by three huge ones, and the desk has tripled in size. Everything is covered with pictures of him, every cupboard has a trophy on it, or a magazine cover with his face on it. And he’s there, at the desk, in civilian clothes, arms crossed over his chest, sitting back in his leather chair. His stare is impassible as he eyes me from head to do. He still had a cut on the corner of his mouth. I smile do myself, proud of my right hook.

I’m going to jump him.

I will break his fucking face, and career.

“Thank you, gentleman.” He says to the gorilla, who lets my arm go. He exits without a word, and I accompany him with a glare even though he can’t see me.

“You dyed your hair blond to get in.” Tuna observes, pulling my eyes back to him. He has his chin up in a pensive manner.

“It worked.”

"Sit down."

"Fuck you." I scoff. Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s trying to order me around? Do I look like his submissive brunette?

"You are banned from this place, you do understand that, right?" He articulates, leaning forward and putting his forearms on the desk.

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I don’t care.” I retort, because duh. And I am done explaining myself. I reach for the doorknob and hear him sigh, then his chair screeches as it slides back. I look back at him, and he’s standing, anger in his eyes.

« Listen, Sivan- or whatever your name is. » He starts, circling his desk. “You want to race so bad? Race me. I win, you get the fuck out of here and you never show up again.” He says once he’s right in front of me. I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze, but it doesn’t make me less confident. In fact, I was waiting for this moment.

“I win and you give Kameron the place back.” I propose. He laughs at me. He actually does, as if I was some naïve young girl.

“Deal.” He agrees, and I love how he underestimates me. It’ll only make him more surprised and angry when I win.

  
“I’m the US champ, and you’re nobody. This is basically already over.” He tells me as we both step out of the lockers at the same time. He’s changed in his dark blue suit, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“You really have no idea who I am.” I observe. It’s only better that he doesn’t know me.

“You’re pretentious enough to think I should, which means you’ve been somebody before.” He calculates as we walk onto the track, the sun hitting so hard it almost blinds me.

“But that also means you’re rusty.” He adds. Ah. I don’t react to that.

“Four laps. Let’s go. I have a press conference in two hours.” He prompts, his face disappearing under his helmet. I put mine on, my heart starting to beat a little faster. The adrenaline rush is only starting.

I'm not nervous. Excited. And maybe scared. I'm not scared I'll lose, because I won't, but I'm scared I'll get hurt while doing so.

Frankly, seeing his face as I take the school back isn't worth breaking any kind of bone.

Inside my Bugatti, I realize I'm still totally not used to her. Half of a parade lap is all I got to do with her. This is a disadvantage: I don't know my car. But it's not that different from any other car; I can overcome it.

I join the starting line and he pulls up next to me. I don't glance in his direction: because one, I wouldn't see him, and two, I need to focus.

I make the motor roar once, twice, before a loud voice comes and disturb me.

“Sivan!” Xav yells in the microphone.

“This is the second time you take the wheel in ten years, and you want to race?! The US champ?!" He shouts, and I know I should be shitting myself because angry Xav is something- and maybe I am, but I can't let him ruin my start.

“Sivan!” He calls when I don't answer.

Some student gives us the signal, and I speed away like a rocket. He overtakes me in no time, but that doesn't mean I messed up, at all. I'm right behind him, and I know this baby has more to give.

I'm just right behind him, fast and determined. One lap. Two laps. I let him think he's winning.

Manipulation. Manipulating your opponent while playing poker, while having a conversation, while playing monopoly is easy. Manipulating him with my car is better.

Third lap. He must be jubilating. I speed up gear four.

Fourth lap.

I see him move to the left to get on his geometric line at the start of the corner. His cornering technique is basic, classical. He leaves his left open, thinking I wouldn't dare come in because no one can take a corner that way.

No one except me.

I dive into the opening at too speed, give a little swing to the left and pull my handbrake for a fraction of a second. The back of my car makes a comma that forces him to swing to the right. In a blink of an eye, my handbrake is pushed down and I'm speeding away again, while he tried to avoid the fence.

I won.

 

I cross the finish line a few seconds later, whooping and screaming in joy, not only because I beat him, but because I raced again after such a long time. I still got!

Rusty? My ass!

As I slow down, I'm more aware of the erratic speed of my heartbeat. I am so fucking excited. I can't feel my legs. I open my door and take my helmet off, panting. My legs wobbly, I use my arms to pulls myself out of the car. The students on the side of the road are applauding. Xav and Kam are running towards me.

I fucking won this race.

I can hear my heart in my chest and in my brain, and my legs are shaking, but I won. I don't have any strength left, but I won.

"Sivan!"

I collapse to the floor, and darkness closes in.

-

I feel groggy and sleepy and tired. I’m slightly aware that I’m moving, and that I fainted.

“Sivan?”

I convince my eyes open, slowly blinking up to register my surroundings. Uncle Kam is towering above me with a worried look, and I’m aware I’m lying down in a moving vehicle. There’s a paramedic next to him, watching in silence and checking my vitals. Everything comes back to me: the race, and the fainting, but most of all, the victory against this arrogant kid, Mark Tuna.

“Hi.” I smile sleepily at him. My head hurts but I feel good. I feel fantastic. I beat him, this douchebag. And I got my home back.

“How are you feeling?” Kam asks me, slipping his hand in mine and squeezing it.

“Hella good, Kam. I did it.” I mumble. “Did you see me out there? Did you see his face at the end? I didn’t. I bet he was-“

“Shhhhh.” He coos, bringing a hand up to caress my hair. I really do feel sleepy but I want to celebrate.

“You went too far too soon, Sivan.” Kam scolds softly. “You still got it, yes. But you’re not ready yet.” He says. Why isn’t he happy? Why aren’t we throwing a party?

“I got the track back.” I remind him. He kisses my hand.

“And I thank you for that.” He murmurs.

“But no more until I say so, okay?”

-

After a good nap in the ambulance, the doctors put me in a room so I can rest and so they can run some tests. I already know I just had a hard time coming down from this adrenaline rush, but a little bit attention doesn’t hurt anyone. Xav and Elijah join me at the hospital, and while we are chatting, Mark Tuna barges in like an angry bull.

He’s wearing his off-track clothes again and a furious facial expression. He’s out of breath, as if he had run to get there.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He asks me. I smile smugly.

He’s furious because I beat him, because he underestimated me, because I’m a woman who does better than the US champ, because I go the school back, because he knows he’s a worthless idiot and I’m the one who wins.

If he wasn’t so much of a dick, I could find him hot, glaring at me like that, storming inside as if he was ready to trample everything. But he is that much of a dick. Really.

“Did you come to say hi? So kind of you.” I beam at him, to make him rage even more. He exhales through his noise like a bull. I sit up and clear my throat.

“Sivan O’shea, triple world champion.” I introduce myself, and watch his face fall as realization dawns on him. This is amazing.

“And a little bit rusty.” I had, mirroring his words. “How does it feel to be banned now, tough guy?” I ask, proud of myself.

“He’s not.” Kam says quietly.

“What?” I whirl my head towards him, almost snapping my neck, my eyes wide and my brows furrowed. “Why?”

“I owe him a lot. I was this close to closing the school when he arrived. Things weren’t the same since you had left.” He says softly, and my heart sinks a little bit. I had no idea he had almost gone bankrupt because of me. But I refuse to believe that asshole saved him.

“He also has talent; he’s the US champion, that’s always good to take. I believe you two will find a way to cohabit.” Xav chimes in. I did this for nothing? I raced until my body couldn’t take it anymore to get him out of my way and now we have to cohabit?

“You mean I’ll eat her alive.” He challenges, and I shoot him a death glare. He has his arms crossed over his chest, his lips jutted out in what almost is a sulky pout. He’s not banned, yet he’s not smiling. Even this kind of victory doesn’t make him smile.

“You really don’t know who you’re talking to, dickhead.” I spit back. The door opens again, and it’s the submissive brunette. She’s wearing short shorts, a tank top and heels.

“Mark, we have to go.” She purrs, putting he manicured hand in the crease of his elbow. He barely acknowledges her, but gets moving. I scoff, slumping back on my bed.

“Oh, and this color looks horrible on you.” He informs me before walking away. I know I’m not meant to be blond, but I needed to get in. Who does he think he is anyway? I never asked for his opinion. Dickhead.


	3. Chapter 3

I get out of my car, hot and exhausted. It’s my first full day of training, without any interruption coming from the almighty Tuna, and I had forgotten how tiring driving could be. I am a little rusty, but not as much as I thought I would be. I know I have this in my blood. I mean, I’ve managed to pull that handbrake stunt after 10 years without practicing it. I did faint after that, but I did it.

“Siv, you’re doing great, really, but I know you can corner faster than that.” Xav tells me, and I know he’s right but I can’t tell him that.

“I can’t do five thousand an hour in a corner.” I retort because I’m bratty, and head towards the exit to go and have a well-deserved shower.

“Well ten years ago, you’d be much closer than that number.” He retorts.

“I think she did just fine.” Someone says before I can defend myself. The man, who had been leaning against the fence guarding the bleachers, pushes himself off of it and ambles towards us. He has long, gray hair, smiley and wrinkly eyes, and he’s Asian.

“Ray.” He says, stretching his hand out.

“Sivan.” I reply, shaking his hand. He smiles at me and points above his shoulder.

“I’m Mark’s trainer.” He says, and my face falls.

“Oh.”

“And I also happen to be his father.” He adds. My god.

“Oh.”

“Yes.” He shrugs, sinking his hands down in his pockets.

“Your son is a dickhead.” I inform him, in case he doesn’t know. I give him a tap on the shoulder, because it must be hard to have a son like that, and walk on towards the exit. He’s trained by his father, how classical. I bet he doesn’t know shit about racing. Talking about him, Tuna comes in my field of view as I get closer to the exit. He’s in the starting blocks with his submissive brunette and another guy. Probably another trainer. He’s talking to him, the trainer, but the submissive had her arms around one of his, and she doesn’t look like she’s listening but still had her dreamy eyes glued on his face. He doesn’t acknowledge her; I don’t think he ever does, but lets her be.

Poor thing.

I shake my head at them, but can’t seem to be able to look away. It is actually quite interesting. If she’s here, it’s obviously because he wants her to be here, but then he doesn’t seem to give the slightest fuck about her. And she’s happy with it- because she gets to be called his girlfriend. When they finish talking and the presumed trainer steps back, his eyes snap up as if he had sensed my presence while the brunette kisses the corner of his mouth. The look in his eyes is impassible, he almost looks as indifferent as I am about him. I actually don’t care about the way he looks at me, but I find it funny that we hate each other for the same reasons.

I walk past him, full of disdain and scorn. And as I’m about to leave the track, I see a Kyosho TS020 coming from afar, zooming past me to park in the starting blocks. Our Kyosho. My blood cools for a nanosecond, and then starts to boil when I realize I’m not the one driving it. I turn on my heels so quickly I almost bump into Xav.

“Who took this car out?!” I yell as a crew member steps out of the car. I know it’s not that guy, because crew members only bring the car to the racer that asked for it. But that Half of the people here should know who that car belongs to. Hell, all of Reno should know.

“Kamron!” I call for an explanation. My uncle is cleaning his hands with his rug, and looks like he has no idea what’s happening. I am fuming, pacing over to the car, ready to snatch the keys and destroy everyone. Who dared defying me like that?

“I did.”

I lift my eyes around and find Tuna fastening his helmet over his head while walking towards the car, all zipped up in his dark grey suit. Oh, no. Oh, no, he did not.

Something twitches inside of me, some like a switch that triggers an internal tidal wave of heat. Not like physical heat, but heat of emotion. Fury. And I’ve not felt like that in a long time. It goes from my head to my toes and back. And with a little bit of hindsight regarding my state, I tell myself that at this level of fury, had I had a weapon near me, I seriously think I would have killed him.

My brain over heats and I can’t think anymore. I could kill him before even realizing it. And he looks so fucking scornful. Even after I flat out beat him he still manages to look at me like I’m a piece of shit, when he is the biggest douchebag I’ve ever met.

“This car is mine!” I shout at him, clenching my fists. No one else can drive this car. No one. He would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.

The small crowd in the starting blocks goes quiet. I have twenty, maybe twenty-five people staring at me.

“Yours is the Bugatti. Stop fussing.” Tuna sighs, calm and content and stupid.

“And this one as well, you’re not driving it!” I retort, taking furious steps towards him, ready to swing at him. Violence is the only way I can react with him.

“The hell, I’m not.” I hear him mutter, and he opens the door. A primal growl escapes my throat, and I bolt towards him, like a lioness protecting her offspring, but I was already too far to catch up.

“No!” I shout as he gets in, slamming the door closed. My car. This is my car, and this guy is going to drive it as if it was nothing. As if it was meaningless!

I hear the motor roar. A sound I hadn't hear in years. It shakes me to my bones. How dares he?

He drives off at light speed before I cm pull it out of it.

"Motherfucker!" I yell, watching our car go. I'm not letting him to this, there is no fucking way. I run towards my car.

“Sivan, Calm down.” Xav says, holding his hands in the air and preventing me from reaching the driver’s side. I heave and shove him away.

“He’s not driving our car! It’s ours!” I tell him before getting inside my Bugatti. I drive off the opposite direction, my intention being to force him to stop.

“Sivan, stop!” Somebody, Elijah or maybe Sam shouts in the micro phone. I'm not listening to anybody, just my heart telling me I can’t let anyone drive this car.

My hands are trembling around the steering wheel. I don't have my gloves, nor my helmet, and I'm reaching 200 mph. After three corners, the Kyosho comes into view. I speed up, adrenaline pumping through my veins so fast, I don't think I'll hesitate to hit him head on.

I set my course that way, drive straight towards the incoming car. And at this moment all I can think of is making him stop. I can die while doing so, but he can't drive this car.

“Sivan!” Someone calls again., and can’t see anything anymore. It’s blurry, but I can see the car coming towards me. I can’t see because I have tears in my eyes, because I’m crying, and I hate this man and I’m going to kill him. He’s going to pay for this. Taking over the school was a thing, almost killing me was a thing, telling me blond doesn’t suit me was another, but this-

“Sivan, stop!”

I swing to the left, turning my car perpendicularly so he can’t avoid me and either crashes against my car or stops. He swings to the right and hits his brakes.

“Sivan!”

I hear the sharp noise of the hot tires against the track, and he’s drifting away, but stopping. I let go of the steering wheel, out of breath, my chest rising and falling furiously, and my legs trembling. Now I can kill him.

I open the door and storm out of my car. I pace towards the Kyosho as Tuna steps out. He takes his helmet off and throws it to the ground, but he has no idea I al way, way more furious than he is.

“Shit, are you crazy?!” He shouts at me, and I soon as I’m close enough I punch him in the face.

“Don’t you ever touch our car again!” I yell, louder than him while he stumbles back, and shove at his chest until he falls to the ground.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He screams while I kneel down, and I punch him again, with all the strength I have left. Left fist, right fist, I’m not counting the blows. He’s protecting his face with his arms but he’s not fighting back. I hit him and hit him and my knuckles hurt but I am a tornado of fury. I want him to bleed, to hurt, to never want to defy me again.

“It’s our car, it’s ours!” I yell and get up, and kick him in the ribs. “You don’t have the right to drive that car! Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Fuck, stop!” He shouts and crabs my foot. I try to pull it out of his grip but he sits up and circles his arms around my thighs, making me stumble and fall back, the back of my head hitting the hard ground.

“Ah!” I cry and hiss, my head hurting, and before I can proceed what is going on, he’s hovering over me, pinning my hands on either side of my head. I look up at him, and I still can’t see anything because of the tears but his face has gone from again to shocked. I hear the steady thud noises of people running on the concrete. I know they are coming to separate us, but I’m not done with him.

“I’m going to kill you.” I tell him, writhing and trying to get my hands around his neck. “I’ll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch.”

My struggle is vain, because Kameron, Elijah, Sam, Xav, and Tuna’s crew arrive at the scene and pull us apart.

“Come on, guys, that’s enough.” Kam says, as calmly as ever, grabbing Tuna by the shoulder and lifting him off me. I get on my feet as well and shove everyone out of my way. I open the Kyosho and get a glimpse of the inside. The leather is blue.

Blue.

I grab the keys and slam the door closed.

“No one else can drive this car, okay?!” I yell, making sure my audience hears the message. Tuna has a cut over his brow bone, and the cut on his lip reopened. Even though I just beat the shit out of him, he doesn’t look annoyed nor angry, confused and pensive.

“No one!” I repeat, and throw the keys to Kameron so he can bring it back to the garage. He catches them but says nothing and everyone looks at me. I feel like a freak, like every single person here is judging me, but at least I got my car back.

I turn on my heels, not wanting to show them I’m crying, and get back inside my Bugatti. I drive myself back to the exit and leave the car with the keys in and the door open, my legs carrying me quickly to the lockers when I collapse on the floor.

And I am a crybaby. I cry a lot, because this is worst thing that could ever happen to me. He’s never going to forgive me.

-

I shower for a long, long time, mostly crying and sobbing, until my mind is clear, until I calm down. I shower with ice cold water to calm the fiery emotions inside me, and by the time I’m doe I’ve regained my composure. I don’t feel like killing Tuna anymore, but I do feel like making his life a living hell here. This has definitely made him my number one enemy. And I am not a mean person, I don’t go around bullying people, unless they are him. And I’ve never met anyone like him before, so careless, self-involved, pretentious, arrogant and rude.

The heavy metal door of the lockers’ room opens, but I don’t mind it, not until I hear the voice that speaks to me.

“Whatever is going on with this car, you didn’t tell me.” He says reproachfully, trying to clear his name. I have a moment of daze, mostly because I’m realizing I’m half naked giving my back to him. But then I realize he’s probably seen tons of butts in panties. I reach for my bra.

“I told you it was mine and you couldn’t drive it. That much should have been enough.” I retort.

“Not with me.” He says flatly.

‘Fuck you.”

I hear him.

“What’s the story behind this car?” He asks, his tone demanding.

“You can find it on the internet.” I grab my jeans. “I’d rather hear it from you.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“You were crying.”

I lift my eyes to the ceiling, sighing deeply. The dickhead saw me cry, and now he’s going to be kind to me.

“If you’re that curious, google me.” I tell him, zipping myself up.

“Have you googled me?” He challenges.

“No.” I reply, reaching for my T-shirt. “Because, I, unlike you, don’t want to know your story.”

I tune around to face him once I’m dressed, and see he’s still in his racing suit. And with the time that has passed, I can see faint bruises on his face. I’ve scratched him up; I’m happy with myself. But on the other hand, I don’t understand why he’s even talking to me. I beat him up for fuck’s sake.

“You’re an arrogant asshole who doesn’t give a fuck about anything but himself, and I don’t want to know you.” I explain calmly, putting my socks on. My words don’t seem to faze him. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“You know what?” He prompts. “I’m going to drive this car for every punch you threw at me if you don’t tell me why you care so much.”

“Without the key, it’ll be a tough job.” Slipping in my shoes, I wave the keys in the air. Kam dropped them in my locker while I was showering. I don’t even look at his face falling.

“You filthy bitch.” He says, but he sounds admiring. I put on my sunglasses and swing my bag over my shoulders.

“Bye.” I sing, already starting to think of a plan to destroy his life. “Oh, and I met your dad.” I call over my shoulder.

“And?”

“He doesn’t know where he went wrong.”

“Haha.” He deadpans, and I exit the room. Outside the school, on the parking lot, I find Ray smoking a cigarette.

“Sivan.” He says, joining me as I walk back to my car.

“Hi.” I reply.

“It was brought to my attention that you and Mark don’t get along?” He asks casually, as if he didn’t know I beat the shit out of his son.

“Who gets along with him except his groupies?” I retort.

“But I understand that fists were involved.”

“You’re here to scold me because I’ve punched your son.”

“No.” He laughs, sincerely. “He probably deserved it.” He waves a dismissive hand.

“But he’s not that much of a bad guy.” He says more seriously as we arrive to my old Ferrari. He throws his cigarette to the floor.

“And things would be much easier if you guys weren’t fighting all the time.”

“He stole my-“

“Dad.”

He both turn our heads and see Tuna leaning against a Rolls Royce, arms crossed over his chest. When did he get changed?

He nods his head towards the car, calling his dad over. He looks like a sulky teenager. How old is he by the way? Twenty?

Ray turns to me and gives me a sympathetic smile.

“You’re both going to have a shitty season you keep that up.” He says, and it sounds like an advice. I hadn’t thought about that. What’s my goal for this season?


End file.
